Icarus
by InterceptionSunset
Summary: Everyone likes to believe that good always triumphs over evil. Whoever started that has clearly never tried to fight the devil with a tree branch.
1. Sowing Season

'Seeing is believing' was the mindset that had befallen my generation. Anything that wasn't tangible was a lie – nonexistent and malicious. As much as people tried to keep faith in themselves as well as others, nobody could manage. The age of doubt spread to children of younger and younger ages, including myself. Few kids my age actually had the imagination to believe in anything – save maybe a few trusted people. There were some, though, that managed to keep their chins up. They were seen as fools – stupid babies distracted by crazy ideas.

I suppose I had some imagination, and as much as I liked to believe in fairy tales and science fiction, I didn't have the guts to voice it. It festered on the inside and eventually died there. Once upon a time, though, I knew a boy who believed in them whole-heartedly. His name was Georgie, and he was not a whole lot younger than I was – maybe by a year or so. He lived in a small house down the street from my dad's apartment. We went to the same school, but we never talked there.

Our meeting was brief, strange, and left a sickly feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew he was something special at that point. "Melinda Morano? MM? Nice initials. I hate alliteration, you know," He'd scoffed at me, clutching a battered old notebook underneath his scrawny arms.

"Georgie Alexander? Two first names and they're both stupid," I'd spat back at him, digging my hands deep into my jacket pockets, trying my best not to shiver in the autumn air.

Despite our initial dislike for each other, we formed some awkward kinship for a good year and a half. We'd meet in the park across the street from his house and he'd tell me these fanciful stories while I listened quietly, repeating things he said for clarification. I couldn't tell why he'd grown so attached to me. He talked as if he'd never get to talk again in his life, almost like he was running out of time. Everything he said was so bizarre, as well. Georgie had the wildest imagination I'd ever come across. Honestly, I was jealous of him.

A few weeks into spring – two years after our first meeting – my older brother, Cole, went missing. I was 12 at the time, and him, 14. He'd come into my room late at night, shaking in his slippers and chattering about a shadow he'd seen at his window. I didn't believe him, nor did I care. As far as me and my tired eyes were concerned, he was pulling my leg – trying to freak me out. Turns out though, he was right, and I didn't even give him the time of day.

For nearly a month, I stopped visiting Georgie, and chose to put up missing posters around the neighborhood with my step-mother. Too soon did we give up hope in ever finding my poor sibling. I came to meet Georgie that summer, bringing an apology card and some cheap chocolate to his front door. He opened slowly and warily, looking like he'd been crying for days. That made two of us. Georgie didn't touch on why he was crying, but asked frantically about my problems. Over tea and cookies, I cried to him about Cole's disappearance.

He was awkward in consoling me, instead asking the strangest of questions. "Did you see him the night before he went missing?" In retrospect, it wasn't strange at all, but at the time, my train of thought was beyond all control.

Nodding sullenly, I sniffled in response, "Yeah, just for a couple minutes. He was scared, though. Cole kept saying there was a shadow at his window." A brief look of recognition seemed to pass through Georgie's eyes, but I ignored it entirely, too wrapped up in myself, "I didn't believe him. This might be my entire fault!" I sobbed harder than ever before at that point, leaving my sleeves and my friend's tablecloth sopping wet.

"Hey, hey. It's gonna be alright. We'll find him," He tried to console me, getting not even the teeniest bit of improvement from me, "I think I might know what happened to him, actually."

I scoffed through my tears, an ugly cough exerting itself from the deepest parts of my throat, "Yeah right, like you'd be able to find him. Not even Sherlock Holmes could find him at this point…"

Georgie looked absolutely frantic, maybe even a little excited, "No, really! I know where he is! He's in Neverland – Peter Pan must have taken him!" Now, I'd like to say that I handled that outburst really well, but I didn't. In fact, I gave the poor boy a bloody nose and vowed never to see him again.

I didn't see him again, actually, though I did see his mother. She came to my house not three weeks later looking absolutely hysterical. My heart caught in my throat – somehow I'd already guessed what had happened to him. "Have you seen my son? Have you seen little Georgie?" All I could manage to do was shake my head before she talked briefly with my parents and left the house. At this point, I was beyond desolation – beyond hopelessness.

I was pissed.

Something out there was taking my goddamn friends and family from me, and they weren't even slightly sorry as far as I could tell. Georgie had left me a little note, though, corked into an old cola bottle with a few trinkets inside. His old notebook had been shoved into my school locker to top it all off. I tried my best not to even look at these things – they'd probably just make cry again. Another month passed before I succumbed to the temptation and uncorked the bottle.

He'd let me know exactly what he was doing. Georgie was headed to Neverland – he wanted to bring Cole back. Of course, I didn't want to believe it. I couldn't believe in a childish thing like that – it just wasn't logical. Know how I said that seeing was believing? I was just about to get that precious 'tangible evidence' thrown straight into my face.

Three months later, a dark shadow flew its way past my window and into the large house across the street. And ya' know what? I never did see my neighbor around after that night.

"_Do you miss the blend of colors she left in your black and white field? Do you feel condemned just being there?" – Brand New: Sowing Season (Yeah)_

**AN: **Hope you enjoyed this little section of the story. This is something I'm writing for my own enjoyment really, but if you like it, then it doubles the fun! Leave a review if you like.


	2. Staying Up

I didn't get much sleep as a teenager. Correction: I don't get a lot of sleep, period. As tempting as it is to sink into numerous thick blankets and let unconsciousness consume me, I saw no appeal in sleeping. I didn't dream often, and when I did, they were vivid and less than pleasant. Thus, no matter how many, or how few, hours of rest I managed to get were insufficient and even more exhausting than not catching any shut-eye at all. It took all but 5 cups of caffeine-related beverages to keep me functioning throughout the long day.

Needless to say, I didn't exactly like doing anything that expended more energy than necessary. That included exercise. Unfortunately for me, though, if I wanted to have even a 2% chance at surviving a day – let alone any longer than that – in the theoretical Neverland I'd thought up, I needed to work out. To put my hypothesis into simple terms: I expected the absolute worst. I expected to run into lions, tigers, bears, demons, ghosts, the Loch Ness Monster, and my 6th grade choir teacher. To prove how low my expectations were, I didn't even 100% expect to find Cole or Georgie there.

So I was negative and tired. What did I have going for me? Very little, thank you very much. Let's tally up my advantages, shall we? #1: The element of surprise. While I took into great consideration that whomever, or whatever, I was going to face had seen right through me, I liked to think that they wouldn't know I was heading for them at least for a little while. If possible, I wanted to avoid violence all together and stealth my way out of that hellhole. Likely, though, I'd trip on a branch and knock over a tree before I could get more than a few feet from my initial landing point. Again, I was preparing for the worst.

#2: The fact that I looked way less impressive than I really was. Let's be honest, here. I'm 17 years old, 5"1, and still manage to look old enough to drink. I was too worn out and hopeless to be any younger than that. Any energy I managed to scrounge from within myself was condensed into a little puddle of aggression in the pit of my stomach. If I really needed to get somewhere fast, I would rely on the adrenaline and will to live to get me through. Out of anyone else I knew, I looked the least threatening. What a wonderful façade I'd managed to put on.

#3: My own cynicism. I didn't trust most people as far as I could throw them – which wasn't far at all. There's a 99.9% chance that I wouldn't fall prey to some shitty lie that some dick would come up with to lead me astray. Sadly, this point backfires on me greatly. I've been known to overthink things. A simple sentence could easily be transformed into a clusterfuck of hidden messages in a matter of sentences. Were people bluffing? Double bluffing? Triple bluffing? Quadruple bluffing? Was I crazy? Do we all see the same colors as each other? What is the origin of life? What does my existence mean?

#4: Finally, my insane improvisational skills. That's right, I make bullshit plans. My brain works much more efficiently when I have 2 pages of homework, 3 minutes to do it, and a broken mechanical pencil to do it with. It helps my problem solving abilities when I know that I'm screwed if I can't reach a certain objective. I'd like to see you get out of a two-day suspension when it was clearly your fault. I will say that I cried in the bathroom for a good ten minutes after I lied through the enamel of my teeth to the principal. All in all, I have absolutely fucking nothing going for me against the Neverland folk – I'm screwed.

That's where Jacky and Steven come in. They're good at everything I'm not good at and have more experience under their belts than I imagine I have. Jacky was 22, and very stereotypically tomboyish. She had a messy head of light brown, curly hair sitting atop her head, and very nearly every square inch of her arms was littered with tattoos. I thought she was cool, but she thought she was cool_er. _That is, cooler than everyone else she knew. With an ego the size of Texas, she reigned as the morale booster of our little band of Kamikaze rescuers.

Steven was just a tool-supplier, really. He was 63 and excelled at seemingly everything, magic or not. Half the time, my brain couldn't even minutely compute the things he could do. Where did he even get all this stuff? Only God can tell. From weapons, to potions, to tailoring, he was the jack of all trades. Jacky and I did all of our training at his run-down old cabin out in the mountains. Steven was that crazy uncle you couldn't help but think was awesome. If any of us were negative, though, it was definitely him. Paranoid, too – he was convinced that the Neverland mission was suicide. Which, to be fair, I had no doubt that it was a quick trip to kicking the bucket, but that didn't especially matter to me at this point.

I spent 5 years training with those two dorks to get to the point I am at now. What is that point, you might ask?

"I'm ready as I'll ever be," I spat out quickly, feeling the carbs in my stomach churning uncomfortably. Crossing my arms tightly, I tried to close off the topic of how 'ready' I was. It had been nearly 6 years since two of the most important people in my life had been dragged away from me, and they shouldn't have to wait any longer. That is, given that they aren't dead already.

Steven glared in my direction, running a hand through his gray hair. "You goddamn kids… Fine, whatever, you don't need to tell this old man what's wrong. We all know you two are scared shitless."

Jacky's foolish confidence rarely went unnoticed, but this was one of those seldom-seen times of somewhat-genuine fear. "So what? It's too late by now, dude. We've come too far to give up now!" A poorly-manicured finger poked at the bedraggled old man's chest, her dark skin greatly contrasting with his white shirt.

He threw up his hands in surrender, "Again, whatever. We're gonna start packing now, so pay close attention, dammit." Arguing with Steven wasn't a good plan if you didn't choose your words carefully, so my Latino friend and I grabbed our bags quietly.

After nearly 20 minutes of rummaging through Steven's stash of stuff, we managed to find the things he was looking for. He tossed a fist-sized paper box around in his hands, and Jacky eyed it questioningly. "This is a storage cube. You can fit a maximum of 10 items in it, and it will never get any heavier than the paper it's made of," Steven droned, his voice clear and his words enunciated.

I stared at the paper box, mystified. "Won't it get crushed, though? It's just paper…" It didn't seem like a stupid question at the time, honestly.

"Don't ask such idiotic questions, Mel! It's not gonna get crushed, just trust him," Jacky cackled in my ear. I grimaced to myself, taking two cubes for myself.

"You've got all your weapons, your extra clothes, your miscellaneous items?" The old man questioned exasperatedly, going down various checklists while we confirmed or denied having them in our packs, "Good, got the alcohol?" I nodded affirmatively, though still confused as to its usefulness. Steven must have seen my mystified expression, because he rolled his eyes at me before continuing, "Trust me, you'll need it."

It had been painfully obvious that he didn't even want to train us at all, but Jacky and I were adamant about going to Neverland. The first time we'd heard of a man who knew of magic, we hunted him down ruthlessly, trying anything and everything we could to get the proper guidance we so seriously needed. He eventually conceded, deciding he'd rather know we left fully prepared for anything than as the foolish dumbasses we were 5 years ago – not that we weren't still fools.

"I suppose this is goodbye, then… It seems like we're not prepared at all." I breathed, partially in relief that the long wait was over, and partially because I was having last-minute thoughts.

Jacky didn't have these qualms. "I don't know, dude, I've been _so_ ready for years. My nephew is out in that hellhole!" I suppose we all had reasons for even wanting to touch Neverland, but she voiced hers more openly than I or Steven did. Yeah, even poor old Steve lost people to the Shadow. He hadn't seen his grandson for over 8 years.

In all honesty, I think if the geezer was younger, he'd be rearing to go. That's the tragedy of age, I guess. Everyone will ultimately lose the ability to do the things they love to do, and he was getting closer and closer every day.

"You guys be careful out there… I don't want your blood on my hands," Steven grumbled, closer to sincere than I think he'd ever been before. The bags under his eyes seemed to darken and his age suddenly became much more evident. He was afraid for us – even Jacky wasn't too ignorant not to see this.

The rambunctious girl wrapped her arms tightly around the old man, and she cooed jokingly, "Aw, he really does care about us!"

Steven patted her head patronizingly and cast me a long glance, "You take care of Jacky now, Melinda. She needs your guidance – I don't care if she's older than you." He ignored her gasps of mock offense from the older girl, and I exchanged my goodbyes with our favorite geezer.

I didn't sleep well that night, not that that's anything new.

"_How can I sleep if I don't have dreams? I just have nightmares." – The Neighborhood: Staying Up_

**AN: **Hahaha. Probably the quickest update I've ever managed to put out. Hell, I may have another one later this evening, actually. I'm on fire! Anyways, thanks to CharChlo, SweetMoonPrincess, Msballetdiva, and Lady Cocoa for reviewing! TTFN, ta ta for now.


	3. Migraine

The idea of inter-realm travel never thrilled me. Of course, for a majority of my life I found it to be an obvious and laughable farce. Nobody even knew if there were other realms; let alone how to get to them. If you asked me, it was an idea best left for the imagination. Nobody should ever get a hold of that kind of power in the first place. It sounded like a paradox – something that would disrupt the fabric of time and space. Apparently, the assholes of Neverland were doing a great job tearing apart the continuum by themselves.

Contrary to popular belief (i.e. – Steven and Jacky's belief), I didn't so much blame myself for my brother and friend's disappearance as much as I blamed that shadow and whatever demon was in charge of it. We all could assume that the little bastard – Pan – was in charge of Neverland, but who were we kidding? Nobody had come back – as far as we know – to tell the tale. Steven was already getting around to writing out our wills. He decided he's taking all our stuff if we don't ever make it back.

This whole situation was giving me a migraine.

We'd come to a fork in the road at this point. There was a couple (read: very few) options at this point. The whole Neverland expedition could be scrapped, and we could all live in regret for not grabbing ahold of this chance, or we could sign our waivers and run into the fray whilst we scream like banshees. Fortunately, we chose an entirely different choice: very, very carefully step into the void. What I didn't expect was having to get a temporary tattoo to do so.

"What the hell is this crap?" I deadpanned, staring into a small inkpot at the maroon-colored liquid inside. It was oily-looking, and smelled intensely of lavender. At this point, Jacky and I were questioning Steven's motives – which is something she rarely did and I did practically every day.

The old man scoffed blatantly into my face, mixing a second inkpot for Jacky as he grumbled, "It's the thing that's gonna get you into Neverland. Stop asking questions – save your mistrust for your journey," He nabbed two paint brushes from his desk drawer and tossed them to us, "Now, you want to do this yourselves. I sure as hell ain't gonna do it for you."

This time, Jacky voiced her inquisitions, "Care to elaborate, geezer?"

He just nodded, saying in an all-too-casual voice, "You need to paint yourself some wings." The room went silent, dead silent. Jacky and I were stunned.

"You're serious?" My darker friend sputtered, seemingly sweating over his announcement.

"Dead serious," he smiled to himself, gesturing to one of the extra bedrooms in the house, "You'll need to help each other with that."

45 minutes later, Jacky and I smelt like we'd bathed in lavender and looked like we'd dipped our fingers into scorpion blood. My migraine intensified at the fumes in the ink. "Can I ask what the hell this is gonna do for us, you crazy old man?" I spat, opening a few windows in attempt to air out the stuffy cabin.

"I already told you, Melinda," Steven paused within bites of instant ramen – momentarily making me forget that he was 63 years old, "It's gonna get you into Neverland. I'd elaborate further, but you're gonna need all the faith you can muster up."

Well, that wasn't very comforting. "What else do we need to do? Jump into a volcano? Pass through the Bermuda Triangle? Get sucked into a tornado?" I rambled on a bit, trying to emphasize my lack of understanding.

"Okay, then. Tell me – how do you get to Neverland? How have other people gotten to Neverland?" He patronized me, still stuffing his face with tragically long noodles.

I'm gonna be honest, I didn't want to say it. I'd only ever researched into Neverland when I was forced to. Ultimately, the information wouldn't help, because nobody's ever documented their entire journey through that hellhole. It could be completely inaccurate, and for the most part, it _was _completely inaccurate. Still, I swallowed my pride as best I could, "… Second star to the right… Straight on till morning…"

Steven just grinned at my lack of enthusiasm. "That's right. Have fun with that, you two idiots."

Jacky was uncharacteristically quiet. I cast a glance back towards her to find a rather sick-looking 22-year-old. "I'm gonna hurl…" She mumbled – walking stiffly towards the kitchen trash can.

The geezer was ecstatic about this development, though. "You afraid of heights, girly?" He received a groan in return, and I scoffed at her wimpy display of fearlessness. Hey, flying couldn't be that bad, could it?

"_It will not let me sleep; I guess I'll sleep when I'm dead. And sometimes death seems better than the migraine in my head." – Twenty One Pilots: Migraine_

**AN:** This one's a little shorter than the others, but that's because if I lumped everything together into this chapter, it would look awkward and wonky in my eyes. Next stop – Neverland. Expect that later today. (This time I mean it.) Thanks to FictionFairy189, Lady Cocoa, and Msballetdiva for reviewing. Ciao~


	4. My Understandings

An awful, muddled smell permeated the air around me. It stuck like glue in my windpipes and stung my eyes like that little unfortunate drop of shampoo you missed while in the shower. I coughed and sputtered awake, my chest feeling uncomfortably tight. A tight hand on my shoulder hardly got my attention, and I could very faintly make out the sound of someone's voice. What was I even doing here? Where even was I?

In my disorientation, I completely forgot to open my eyes. Once I realized this, I snapped them open with newfound energy. My eyes met the soft-looking dirt that I had very nearly buried my whole face into. My confusion continued, but I could finally make out the voice I'd been hearing.

"Melinda Jean Morano, get off your goddamn ass and look at me," Seethed Jacky, her bulky nails coming dangerously close to piercing through my shoulder. I slowly rolled over, relieving my nostrils of the potently-scented soot I was lying on.

After a moment of trying to find my voice again, I croaked out a few words, "Jacky, how drunk was I last night? You know I hate camping, right?"

"We're not camping, you fucking maroon. We're in Neverland."

The information woke me up like a bucket of freezing water to the face. I sprang – more like wobbled hastily – to my feet, nearly toppling over from the sudden dizziness. With tired, disoriented eyes, I tried to take in my surroundings to the best of my abilities. Instead of freaky woodland creatures running rampant through the island, I got… Trees. The expected monstrous kidnappers I figured we'd run straight into – which would've been just my luck – were replaced by… Trees. Thickly forested was Neverland, so much so that you could barely see the sunlight that spilt through the canopy.

The only thing I didn't especially expect was to be overwhelmed by foliage. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. "Why didn't you wake me up, Jacqueline something-rather Brown?" I spat in exasperation, trying my best not to wake the whole island by screaming at her.

Jacky threw up her hands in exasperation, groaning to herself, "I did try, Mel. I nearly threw you into the river, but I wasn't sure if you'd survive that. You fell out of the sky, dumbass. You'd probably be dead if I didn't swoop in like Spiderman to save your stupid life!"

While I could hardly remember the flight here at this point, it was extremely embarrassing to have plummeted out of the sky like a bird who'd just hit a window. The ink that gained us the ability to fly over here was said to contain 'the blood of a pheonix'. I thought it was a bullshit story, but who was I to judge? Your friends and family being dragged off to another realm via detached shadow was a bullshit story. Hell, Steven spent a whole year trying to find someone who could give us even the slightest clue as to how to make it here, I wasn't about to give up when we hit a suspicious roadblock. Unfortunately, it was a one-way trip. We could very well save Cole, Georgie, and anyone else we lost, but we still wouldn't have a way home.

I clammed up at her words, having been put in my place. It probably wasn't the best of ideas to immediately blame my friend, but I wasn't in the 'best of ideas' kind of mood right now. "… I'm sorry…"

Jacky slowly raised an eyebrow at me, looking extremely unimpressed with my apology. "That's it? That's all I get?" I shrugged slightly, trying my best to make myself look small. An angry Jacky was the worst kind of Jacky. She sighed, the aggravation seemingly increased gravity as she looked slightly more sunken than beforehand. "You so owe me, you whore." I'll keep that in mind, hun.

We started off on our way, trekking through the vast amounts of forest that existed on this so-called imaginary island we'd – somewhat literally – crash landed on. As far as I could tell, it was just a big mass of um, trees and dirt. That should be kind of natural, considering we're on a technology-lacking island of kids who may very well not know what a light bulb is. I'd never really been too fond of nature, actually. There was too much pollen, litter, and people outside for me to spend a whole lot of time enjoying the greenery. I was pretty much forced leave the house when I started working with Steven, but beforehand, all training I got was at my own house. The only incentive I had to stare at all these God-forsaken, mindless oxygen factories was that I may eventually find Cole and Georgie. I can pretty confidently identify a lot of plants, though. Look, over there – poison ivy. Great – fun.

After hours on end – or at least what felt like hours on end – we were starting to get really restless. By 'starting', I mean we'd gotten tired of this dense forest about an hour after we'd initially started walking. My feet were probably bleeding, Jacky had decided against her better judgment to take off her shoes and start walking around, and we were both starving. Things were looking up for us. No, really, I think the maggots are just waiting for us to keel over and die. I wouldn't be surprised if we had a stroke – we were looking pretty damn pathetic.

"That's it…" Jacky forced out, throwing her knapsack down, "I'm done. I can't go any longer." She plopped onto the dirt, quickly carving out a small indentation to sit in. In all honesty, I couldn't agree more. This felt like a battle of wills between us, really. For once, I was the one winning.

I slowly placed myself next to her, lying on my back to rest. For a good amount of time, we were silent. The two of us exchanged very few words as we gazed up at the stars. Neverland – at the time – wasn't too bad. Besides being rather vastly unpopulated and heavily forested, it was peaceful. At least, much more peaceful than I thought it was going to be. Jacky seemed to agree, deciding to kick back as well, wiping the sweat from her brow as she propped up her hoodie for a makeshift pillow.

A small smile crossed my lips, and I murmured to my friend, "Hey… You still awake?"

"… This isn't a sleepover, you know. We're in the middle of the woods," She laughed half-heartedly, starting to doze off.

True. "Ya' know… It's after 12:00 AM… I turn 18 today, and I almost forgot… Again…" I rolled my eyes inwardly, hardly shocked that I'd forgotten myself for the umpteenth time. It had been happening since I was 14, and my parents had quickly stopped reminding me after Cole had vanished.

"Tch, good for you, loser. Now it's legal that you moved out of your parents' house… Too bad that governmental jurisdiction doesn't apply here," She droned, taking a swig of water from her canteen.

Feeling my eyes droop closed, I fought to maintain consciousness as the dispersing scent of lavender lulled me to sleep. I'm sure I shared these misgivings with most other people, but I really didn't feel any older than I did yesterday.

"_I don't mind it, I don't mind if you're overrated, or if you're staring at the edge of the world. Keep in mind that I'm a sore eye with blurry vision. Now you can see that it has to be your love that I've been dreaming of. And if we climb this high, I swear we'll never die." – Of Mice and Men: My Understandings_

**AN: **Lots of exposition, sorry. I don't like this one… At all… Tomorrow's chapter will be action-y. Probably. Thanks to Lady Cocoa for her review (on the chapter I may or may not have posted, like, an hour ago). Au revoir~


	5. Panic Switch

Terror. Absolute terror flooded through my veins, disguising itself as adrenaline. Any relatively intelligent thought I had in my body quickly fled the scene when the violence started. My fight or flight instinct kicked in nearly immediately, and as much as I hate to admit it, so did my selfishness. Was Jacky okay? Who knows – I was only concerned about my own skin. Arrows whizzed past my ears, very nearly impaling me in the head. I swerved to the left, weaving in and out of trees as swiftly as I could. It's harder to hit a moving target, right? One could only hope – and maybe pray a little bit.

It was probably a fruitless effort to get away in time – I wasn't exactly a sprinter, nor did I run cross country. The odds were stacked against me – definitely. If I had the guts – and the stupidity – to look behind me right now, I'd probably find some ruthless, rebellious little boy running just inches behind me. To my own advantage, though, I could hear the footsteps – I had put a decent amount of distance between us. The only problem with that is that I wasn't particularly fond of hearing my impending doom.

It was the only thing I could focus on; the crunching of leaves as I sprinted through the woods, the constant mantra of 'run, run, run, breathe, live, escape' in my head, and the inferno that was burning up my muscles from the inside. How long had I been running, exactly? 5 minutes? 10 minutes? 20 minutes? Had I been running this whole day? Time was relative here – I imagine it was a hard thing to keep track of in the first place.

Sparing a glance to my left, I was – nearly – grateful to see that Jacky was keeping up. She looked well-winded, possibly more so than I assumed I looked. We were going to die here, weren't we? The two of us were bound to kick the bucket within the next month, anyways. Why not just get it over with? That's an appealing idea. I suppose death via lost boy wasn't exactly the most painless way to go, but it probably wouldn't last too long. Children were, most likely, not too creative in their murdering.

In all this running, I'd somehow managed to forget that the people chasing us probably looked no older than 13-16 years old. I wasn't any older than they were, really. It didn't matter that I was a supposed 'legal' adult. In retrospect – I wasn't prepared to make life choices, I wasn't prepared to live on my own, and I sure as hell wasn't prepared to save lives. Neither of us were, Jacky and myself. Why had we even dared set foot in this land?

I seemed to be doing 100% more deep-thinking than I should be doing in a situation like this. The only objective was to get out alive, not figure out the source of human foolishness. Of course, it was just my luck that as soon as I tried to communicate to Jacky a worthwhile plan, an arrow embedded itself into her shoulder, very nearly pinning her to a tree. I came extremely close to throwing up at the sight, but my legs didn't stop moving for a second. Her panicked eyes stayed glued into my mind as my heavy, sluggish legs carried me through the forest.

I was horrible. I was awful. I was the most despicable, indescribably vile human being alive. A serial killer would look like a saint compared to me. How could I leave her behind? How could I just sentence somebody to death like that? What was wrong with me? What _wasn't_ wrong with me? _Why couldn't I stop running?_

My lungs were burning, my eyes were burning. I was probably and undoubtedly crying at this point. Was I really? Could I even feel tears? For all I know, this whole situation wasn't even real. There were only a few ways to find out, and stopping to have a quick chat with some lost boys wasn't on my list. Pinching myself wouldn't help if I already had convinced myself that my legs were practically on fire, so what could I do? Then it hit me – literally. A heavy weight dragged me down, pinning my shoulders to the ground. My face was smothered in the dirt for the second time in 24 hours.

Rough, calloused hands turned me over, and I squeezed my eyes shut, as if afraid of seeing who would probably be my executioner in a couple of moments. Eventually, through great force, I peeled my eyes open, finding a crossbow just inches from my nose. The face of the boy who'd caught up to me was irrelevant if I was just going to be killed anyways.

With my limbs feeling like they were completely disconnected from my nerves, I didn't even make an attempt to struggle. Dying didn't sound too terrible right about now, actually. Maybe God could forgive me for ditching poor Jacky like that. He probably wouldn't, though. I know I didn't forgive myself.

My would-be murderer lowered his bow slightly, cocking his head at me. A slight grin graced the most-likely 16-year-old's lips, his scarred, dirty face diminishing any warmth it might have held before he was brought to this isolated circle of hell. "It's time to wake up," He chided, re-aligning his aim. I didn't even have the chance to act confused, for he'd already released an arrow into my face.

"_Do you see yourself in a crowded room? Do your fingers itch? Are you pistol-whipped? Will you step in line, or release the glitch. Do you think she'll sleep with a panic switch?" – Silversun Pickups: Panic Switch_

**AN:** Does this count as a cliffhanger? It shouldn't. I'd say it's pretty obvious what's happening here. Don't you worry, son. You'll know tomorrow, anyways (today, really.) Hey, it's like, 12:23 AM here. I'm only 23 minutes late with this chapter, honest! One more day, though, and I get to see more Peter Pan. Yooooooo- Anyways, thanks to Lady Cocoa, Msaballetdiva, and arosequartz for reviewing. To Msballetdiva, thank you for the input! It actually helps a lot! Haha, I'm not to good at dialogue – not my forte. I'll work on it, though! Thanks again! Oof. Author's note too long. Bonne soiree, mes amis!


	6. You Can Run, But We'll Find You

I function on a level of perspective that I like to call, 'negative realism'. To put it simply, it was acknowledging the minor percentage. Sometimes it was an optimistic point of view, and other times it was pessimistic, but no matter what happens, you will have taken everything into consideration. There were three steps to this invented thought process of mine: 1 – accept all variables. 2 – Accept the minor percentage. 3 – Accept the majority.

If the weather man tells you there is a 40% chance of rain for tomorrow, you firstly need to acknowledge that the weather man is probably wrong. Weathermen are idiots. Secondly, you need to remind yourself that there is only a 10% difference between it raining, and not raining. That day, precipitation may very well occur, and you need to be prepared. Now that you're good and paranoid, the last thing to do is appreciate the majority. According to the lying weatherman, it's probably not going to rain. Deep breath, exhale – enjoy.

If I completely negated this way of thinking, I was a dead man. There couldn't be any feasible way to escape an arrow to the face, could there? At that particular moment, I didn't have the time to have a mathematical deduction on 'possibility'. According to statistics, I should probably be getting an autopsy in a few minutes. Cause of death: arrow to the face. So why, then am I still alive? That's right – I'd forgotten to accept the variables.

I'd prayed for Jacky to magically phase into the area and save me – I'd prayed for some angel to smite the lost boy on top of me – and I'd prayed that I suddenly hulk out and kick some teenaged-boy ass. None of these things happened. They weren't so much 'variables' as they were 'fantasies', though, so I didn't count on it in the first place. What did happen, though, was I woke up. Literally – woke up.

I flinched awake; my throat so dry that the gasp that tried to leave my mouth got stuck at the base of my tongue. With eyes wild and frightened, I quickly scanned the area, trying to focus my sight more clearly. Nothing was there – not even a single pebble was out of place. Jacky was still asleep, our bags were left untouched, and the sun seemed to be just poking out over the horizon – at least, I could assume so, but one could never tell in this horrible forest. My heart rate slowly settled, the energy seeping out of my clenched fists and into the cool dirt beneath me. We were safe, for now.

I suppose I spoke too soon, though, considering just inches from my neck lay a wooden arrow, sticking straight up out of my most definitely torn sweater. Cue the heart attack. Wrenching it from the ground, I hastily shook awake the thankfully not-injured Jacky, grabbing my pack and zipping it shut. "Jacky, this isn't the time to sleep in. We're in trouble – possibly big trouble," I whispered, trying my very best not to let the panic bleed through my voice.

She groaned quietly, twitching away from me like a child who didn't want to wake up just yet. "Can't it wait five more minutes?" Jacky whined, stretching herself awake in a slower-moving way than molasses in January.

"Dude, no. This isn't exactly the best place to take a nap! One of us should have been keeping watch!" I seethed, gesturing spastically to emphasize my growing frustrations. It was just like Jacky to act like a sloth when we needed to pick up the pace. Where there's smoke, there's fire. Where there are stray arrows, there are surely archers.

Jacky scoffed at me, reassembling her knapsack and pushing herself off the ground. "What's the problem anyways, Mel? Besides the obvious, I mean."

I glared at her, shoving the currently snapped arrow into her hand. "_That_ is the problem. Someone is – or was – around here." While I felt mildly smug watching her face blanch considerably, I was a little worried that I'd just sent us both into a panic.

To my great appreciation, my older companion quickly regained her confidence, filling in the hole my sudden hopelessness had created within me. She cast the arrow off into some bushes, glancing around herself cautiously. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Mel, but I have a feeling somebody out there knows exactly where we are." Jacky pointed to the snapped arrow flippantly, "This is just a warning. We probably should've been out of here a while ago."

I nodded solemnly. The thought had occurred to me before, but I had actively been avoiding the possibility. "If they already know where we are, it doesn't matter what we do, then." A short, grievous laugh reverberated its way up my vocal cords as I continued, "It's not like we have some magical way off this isla-"

Jacky cut me off abruptly, slapping a hand over my mouth. We both quieted down instantly, not even daring to breathe for fear of making too much noise. Then I heard it – she must have noticed it before me. Footsteps - perfectly even footsteps, hardly even registering in my ears as a real sound. My already uneven breathing hitched, and the two of us slowly backed into the thicker area of trees, trying to avoid disturbing even a single speck of dust on the ground.

We ducked behind an awfully bushy area of brambles and weeds, peering through the spaces between the leaves at the pair of boys who'd walked into the previously habited clearing of ours. I nearly cried, spotting the semi-familiar face of my dream 'murderer'. Jacky noticed my sudden apprehension and lightly placed her hand on my shoulder for reassurance. Conflict raced around my head like a wildfire. Was I going to be a coward again? Would I have the guts to stick around?

I seriously doubted I'd be able to even make my muscles work, they felt so heavy and immovable. There was no way we'd be able to get away without making it painfully obvious which way we were heading. Either they don't find us here, or we bite the bullet. I seemed to be choosing between life and death pretty often nowadays, how that I think about it.

As if reading my mind, one of the lost boys snickered to themselves, returning from their fake play at ignorance. "You might as well come out now. We know you're there."

Death it is, then. For the second time today.

"_Your apologies will never soothe the sting. Just keep scratching our eyes out. Well you should've known, you should've known, you should've known. Run, you can run, but we'll find you." – Matchbook Romance: You Can Run, But We'll Find You_

**AN: **Oof. It's 12:45 this time. God, I should do this earlier. Sleep is important kids, don't do fanfiction. (This has been a PSA.) dUN DUN DUH. Was it really not obvious last chapter? Maybe it's just me – I am, after all, the writer. Hope I did at least a tiny bit better with dialogue this time… Heheh… Thanks to Msballetdiva, arosequartz, and Lady Cocoa for reviewing! Good to know someone likes Jacky! See you later, sON.


	7. Glory Fades

I can't think of many people who don't enjoy a good game of hide and seek once in a while. Adults, children, older people – doesn't matter. Hide and seek is a game that anyone can win with a little creativity, and maybe a little stealth. Me? Well, I was always one to hide in the open, or at least more visibly seen than other people's hiding spots. It usually went pretty well for me, actually. Everyone else was too busy thinking outside the box, when all they really had to do was look around.

I liked to keep it simple, though. I'd hide next to the couch, behind a door, around a corner, or maybe I'd just sit in a chair, put on a hoodie, and try to look natural. Sometimes it would take people 20 minutes to find me, but it really depended on who was searching. There were a select few people who were just too damned crafty for me. I usually had to be extra creative with my hiding in those cases.

I'm gonna be honest, here. Neither me, nor Jacky, were too keen on surrendering ourselves. I imagine not a whole lot of people would be, in this probably life-compromising situation. Reasoning with myself, I could understand that these two boys probably weren't _exactly_ aware of the place Jacky and I were hiding. They just knew that we were in the immediate vicinity of where they were standing. It wouldn't be too hard to pull off a game of hide-and-seek for a while, but once we were found, we were done for. How much was I willing to bet on my ability to play a child's game? Apparently Jacky was willing to bet a lot on it.

She gently squeezed my shoulder, motioning for me to stay put, and swiftly climbed out from behind the bushes, leaving her bag with me. I didn't even have the chance to argue against her terrible idea – she'd already up and left! With my mouth hanging wide open, I peered through the foliage at my friend's current encounter with our two resident hell-spawns. While Jacky didn't appear too worried about herself, I was having a goddamn heart attack.

The two boys looked her up and down, their expressions drenched in disbelief. After a moment of this, the taller of the two asked, "Where's the other one, then?"

The ever-confident Jacky just shrugged, "Nobody else was crazy enough to come here with me. Why would anyone else be here?" She rolled her shoulders, trying to appear nonchalant, but I knew exactly what was going on here. My friend was just buying me time, and to hell if I wasn't going to use every second of it.

Rising back to my feet, I grabbed the both of our bags, slowly creeping into another area of brush around the clearing. Gluing my eyes to my feet, I tried my very best to not even step on a leaf; for fear that I make too much ruckus.

A short, rather ugly laugh came from the same boy, "Yeah – right. We saw the other girl. What person would be stupid enough to come here alone?" His probably less-impressive friend sidestepped Jacky, moving to check our previous hiding spot.

I made a point to maneuver away from him as quickly and silently as possible. After another minute of listening to my older friend stall for me, I had done a 180 around the clearing, landing myself opposite my initial point. If everything went as I planned it, we could get away with our skins – at least for now. Smacking my tongue around the sand-paper-like cavern of my mouth, I tried to bring the moisture back to my throat, my hand searching around in an arbitrary fashion for a thicker-sized stick. I had one shot at this, or two of us were cooked geese.

"Look, dude. If there was another girl here, she wasn't with me. I don't work well with others," Jacky defended herself, sticking her hands up in mock-surrender. Her lies were getting thinner, not like the lost boys believed her in the first place.

My knuckles brushed against a small branch, and I took ahold of it as hastily as possible. Craning my neck around the trunk of a tree, I observed the situation more fully. The taller one had pushed my friend a bit further back than she was before, but Jacky tried her best to keep him from getting a good view of my new position. Unfortunately for me, the second boy was nowhere in sight. Shrugging to myself, I figured that so long as one of them was down, the other wouldn't be too much trouble to rid of.

Seizing the chance, I stalked out of my hiding spot with my best try at being noiseless. The branch tightly in hand, I raised it, taking a great swing at the back of the lost boy's head. He collapsed in a heap, knocked out cold – though hopefully not dead. I don't know how well I'd be able to live with myself if I'd killed him. The immense relief I felt was thankfully not enough to cover up the sound of a bowstring tightening. I'd nearly forgotten the second boy in my current endeavor, but he made himself known pretty quickly. Had he known where I was the whole time?

Jacky shoved me over with not a second to spare as an arrow flew straight over my head, burying itself in a tree trunk. Taking a rock in hand, my friend poised to throw it, but our opponent had already fled the area, to my horror. We wasted no time in getting the hell out of there, sprinting blindly through the woods.

"We're pretty cut short on time – what with that boy running back to tell everyone we got away," I wheezed, already out of breath in our running.

Jacky nodded half-heartedly, waiting a few moments before responding. "I hate to bring it up, but the next time we see him – it's not just gonna be two lost boys." Neither of us spoke after that. We were too focused on that horrible conclusion, and what it would ultimately mean for us.

"_Keep the noise low, she doesn't want to blow it. Shaking head to toe while your left hand does the 'show me around'. Quickens your heartbeat, it beats me into the ground." – Brand New: Sic Transit Gloria… Glory Fades_

**AN: **Sorry I didn't manage to update Sunday. Actually, don't expect an update everyday – you might have a bad time… I didn't quite like this chapter, but it's more a bridge into the bigger things I have planned. Yeah – I actually made a plan – be afraid. If I get all the cool shit out of the way in these first couple of chapters, it'll be too quickly paced, and then I'll get bored and stop writing it. Also, how'd you guys like 'Nasty Habits'? Did you watch it yet? Damn, Peter - you fucking scary. Hope you at least somewhat liked this chapter – please try to leave a review. I loved getting them and read every one! Thanks to Lady Cocoa, Msballetdiva, and theshadowwithinyoursoul for reviewing! See you tomorrow, kidders!


	8. Plane

It's safe to say that the two of us were no longer safe. Yes – one could argue that the moment we painted on our smelly lavender wings is the moment we were no longer safe. In the grand scheme of things, though, the preceding timeframe after our first run-in with the lost boys was the beginning of the end for us. It had been about two weeks since then, and we were cutting it closer every day. Jacky and I had a bounty on our heads that wasn't so easily-evaded. In any other case, we could possibly jump the Mexican border, but it's really hard to get off an island in another realm.

"Dude, we fucked up," I panted, bruising my knuckles against stones as I hastily shaped them into a fire pit. It had been our rather poorly put-together plan to throw our pursuers off course by leaving fake campsites around the island. Rather tedious was the job, but considering how long we had managed to evade capture, it was working somewhat well.

Jacky gave me a noncommittal grunt, already starting a small fire in the pit I'd just finished. "We can't keep focusing on that, though… It'll get us killed." A couple minutes later, she put out the flames and the two of us pressed onward through the dense forest.

There was a lot of truth to what my friend had said, but I really doubt either of us found ourselves willing to so soon forget that neither of us had half the mind to keep watch that night. It would've saved us a ton of trouble, and we may not have ended up in this situation. While it was bound to happen eventually, being that we had flagrantly trespassed onto an otherworldly island, but we could've lasted another week or two without being hunted down.

"If we can get a little closer to the shore before morning, we can take a break for a while," I noted positively, feeling the blisters on my feet becoming more and more agitating. In all actuality, it just made me more depressed to acknowledge that our amount of rest solely depended on how quickly we kept moving. At this rate, the lost boys would run us into the ground.

A long whistle from the distance made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and the two of us stopped just for a moment to take a glance around. Now that I think about it, I doubt we'll make it to the shore at all.

My darker friend looked on the verge of a mental breakdown. She'd never been so lifeless before all this. In all honesty, that scared me more than the thought of death. Jacky just wasn't Jacky without her witty attitude and nitrous-powered energy.

"They're getting too close," She droned, the fear in her voice so miniscule that you'd need a hearing aid and a doctorate in psychology to notice it, "This is probably our last day running around, on the bright side…"

Nevermind, _that_ scared me more than the thought of death.

The whistles continued, creating a Jaws-theme-esque soundtrack to our impending doom. What did they even mean? Was it just a scare tactic? It didn't matter. Whatever the whistling was trying to do, it was working wonders on my anxiety.

Jacky and I could just make out the shore by the time the sun was just peeking out above the horizon, and I'd never been so ecstatic to see that giant, blazing star in the sky. It meant that I could take a nap, even if it was just for an hour or so.

I collapsed on the sand-dirtied line between the forest and the beach, my knees cushioned into the tiny particles of rock and shell. If she had been more herself, Jacky would've very nearly been climbing into the sea by now. Unfortunately, neither of us were too sure what was in that water. Was it monsters? Seaweed? Nothing?

"We made it," I breathed, any energy I had a few moments ago diminishing itself as I sank deeper into the sand, feeling its softness in my hands.

Jacky didn't sit down next to me. Her eyes were trained on the water, and solely on the water. She looked almost peaceful, like she'd just been born again. It was rejuvenating to know that we'd actually gotten somewhere in this horrible misadventure. We were both quiet for a good amount of time, content with breathing in the salty air and watching the sun rise.

Scrunching up my nose, I decided to bring up the ever-present topic in most of our daily discussions, despite the momentary peace we'd just found. "How much longer do you think we can keep this up?" I asked, any feeling I could've put into my words dispersing on the tip of my tongue.

"Actually, I'm afraid I can't let this go on any longer," crooned a voice that made my blood boil and freeze simultaneously. Figures stalked slowly out of the forest, cornering us between themselves and the sea. Jacky was shoved to her knees, one of the hooded boys binding her wrists behind her. I couldn't even move. I was too terrified to try.

The owner of the voice made himself known, stalking in an almost cruelly calm fashion into our line of vision. He looked normal – mostly normal – and that little tidbit of information made him even more intimidating. Someone so plain looking had the presence of a demon. "That's upsetting. I'm unimpressed."

Jacky had a little bit more attitude than I did, apparently. "Wasn't trying to impress any of you assholes…" Her words were well-responded to, getting a sharp jerk back to her feet and a quick escort back into the forest.

I visibly flinched. She probably wasn't making this any easier on us. If anything, poor, hopeless Jacky had probably just signed her execution papers in perfect cursive.

"With a tongue like that, it's shocking that she's _not_ the girl who beat one of my boys over the head," he casually remarked, getting uncomfortably close to my face. The boy just stood there for a moment, as if searching for something in my no doubt panicked expression. After a tragically long minute, he scoffed, turning back around to face the sea, "An eye for an eye, right? It's his turn now."

A blunt object made connection with the back of my skull, the nearly blinding pain knocking me out cold before I could even properly register what had happened.

"_Well, I'm leaving your town again – and I'm over the ground that you've been spinning. And I'm up in the air, said, 'Baby, hell yeah.' Oh, honey I can see your house from here. If the plane goes down, damn – I'll remember where the love was found. If the plane goes down – damn." - Jason Mraz: Plane_

**AN:** Ohohoh~ Wrong neighborhood, motherfucker! Poor Mel. She got the short end of the stick. You win some, you lose some. Right? Thanks to Msballetdiva, theshadowwithinyoursoul, and my-beloved-monster for reviewing! Ahhh, yes. Peter fucking killed that episode. Goddamn… I got into an argument with my mom, because she hates Peter so much. It's probably because you're 56, mom. To my-beloved-monster, thanks for the help! I can see where that would get tedious. I suppose it's just something I got used to doing in my stories. Hope it was a little better this time around. See you guys later!


	9. West Coast

After being knocked out, I had one of the best sleeps I've ever experienced. Every single moment was filled with some form of a dream or another. They were very, very bizarre dreams, but dreams nonetheless. For once, I even woke up feeling mildly refreshed, despite the monstrous headache that I'd received. It was fantastic, actually. Perhaps I should have taken sleeping pills when my mother offered to get me a prescription for some.

Unfortunately, not 5 minutes after waking up, I remembered the situation I'd dug myself into. I was still in Neverland, I was still not even close to finding Georgie or Cole, and I was tied to a tree trunk. This information successfully slaughtered my good mood. "God dammit," I groaned, wiggling uselessly in my bindings. Whoever tied them had been stupid enough to tie knots over my sleeves, leaving my wrists unmarred, thank the lord.

"You look like hell," croaked a familiar voice, and I glanced up to see Jacky bound to a tree several yards in front of me. If I looked like hell, she looked worse. Leaves were stuck into her dark hair, dirt coating her brown skin and off-white shirt. To top it all off, she was shivering like she'd just encountered a ghost. She'd clearly put up a fight, though – God knows I couldn't lift a finger to do anything.

I gave her another once-over, scrunching up my face, "You look worse, trust me."

Jacky nodded half-heartedly, "You're fucking lucky they knocked you out…" She spit off to the side, careful to get her saliva as close to the lost boy's tents as possible. "It was horrible." Her vague description seemed to be enough to send a violent shiver down her own back, but I was still in the dark.

"_What_ was horrible?" I questioned after a moment, my voice laced with exasperation.

"The crying. The lost boys – they were crying, no, screaming all goddamn night," Jacky spat out, shriveling deeper into her bindings. I could see the angry red marks circling her thin wrists. She was definitely not as lucky as I was.

It didn't quite add up in my head, though. These lost boys seemed pretty hard-hearted to me. If this island was anything like I thought it was, though, then it was perfectly reasonable to cry yourself to sleep every night. I left the thought alone for the moment, a shadowy figure entering the corner of my vision. Neither Jacky, nor I turned to look at him, preferring to be stubborn little shits. It clearly didn't faze whoever this was, though.

"Ah, that's good news. Pan will be pleased to know you've finally woken up, girl," the boy halfway taunted, leaving just as quickly as he'd come. If he was off to get the freaky demon child, then I was going to try to knock myself out again.

As soon as he was out of hearing range, I turned my face skywards, "Please, lord, end my life. What did I do to deserve this?" Jacky snickered to herself at this, and I blatantly ignored the incessant little noise. We were going to die here, probably tied to trees, and neither of us had ever done anything momentous with our lives. Yeah – we went to Neverland. So what? Now we have to lie in the bed we've made.

"Glad that you could make it this time," a voice crowed in my ear, very nearly sending me into cardiac arrest. I wormed away from the voice, getting barely an inch or two from its source. Of course, it was our friendly neighborhood kidnapper, Peter Pan. He laughed – a surprisingly smooth laugh from such a wretched boy. "I'm offended that you don't want to be near me. How rude."

I silently cursed my dumb luck as he plopped himself directly next to me, once again invading my personal space. His chilling presence did nothing to help my headstrong façade, as a shiver wracked its way through my body involuntarily. It was suffocating just being around him.

I glanced Jacky's way, finding one of the most hate-filled glares I'd ever seen her give anyone. She was pissed. Let me reiterate – an angry Jacky was the worst kind of Jacky. Unfortunately for her, any kind of Peter Pan was significantly worse than Satan himself. The malicious boy was not affected by her rage in the least.

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced, girls," he remarked, his tone as conversational and welcoming as your sweet old grandma's, "I'm Peter Pan – though I'm sure you already knew that." The hint of malice in his voice did not go amiss, not for a second. He turned his head towards me, still not getting any of my attention in return, and chided, "You know, it's polite to give your name when others introduce themselves to you."

Bile rose in my throat, and I swallowed deeply, trying my best to ignore the aftertaste. Should I give him my name? Should I even bother hiding things from him?

Thankfully, Jacky spoke before I could manage a sentence, let alone look Pan in the eye, "Pick on someone your own size, Pan. I'm Jacky."

He turned his attention towards her, looking like he'd just been slapped. Clearly Peter didn't appreciate my poor friend's sass. "You'd do well to keep your mouth shut, girl. Wait your turn."

Don't get me wrong, this boy scared me to the core, but just listening to him belittle my friend made my blood boil. I directed my gaze to him, grinding out my name, "Its Melinda. My name is Melinda."

His expression went thoughtful for a moment, and then a malicious grin crossed his features, "Was that so hard, though?" Peter rose from my side, calling for a couple of his lost boys. He cast one more glance back towards Jacky and I, scoffing to himself. "These girls would do better if they were farther apart. Put _that_ one somewhere else," he commanded, pointing flippantly towards my darker friend.

"It's not nice to point," I mumbled, too quietly for anyone else to hear, or at least I hoped it was too quiet for anyone else to hear.

The two boys unbound Jacky and began dragging her away, my partner in crime still kicking and screaming like her life depended on it – which, let's be fair, it probably did. In retrospect, though, Peter probably had it all figured out. In just the couple of minutes he'd spent with the two of us, he managed to work out our entire friendship. Jacky was my crutch. She balanced out all the negativity in my life. Likewise, I tried my best to keep her grounded. We were best friends – now that she was gone, I'd surely crumble.

"_If the sun was God, I'd be covered in faith. If the ocean was the devil, I'd be covered in hate. I'm so west coast, it's a goddamn shame." – The Neighborhood: West Coast_

**AN:** Yeahhhh, watch how the cookie crumbles. God, I hate all my characters apparently. I'm so sorry Jacky, Mel – forgive me. Everyone praise my longest-running fanfiction to date! I never manage to get past chapter two in a lot of things, actually. Thanks to Msballetdiva, my-beloved-monster, and theshadowwithinyoursoul for reviewing! Also, Jalix sounds better than Facky. Facky sounds like fake meat and Jalix sounds like a hybrid car. Much cooler. I feel fuckin' bad for whoever ends up with Peter. They must be made of iron or something… Hope you liked the chapter, guys! See you all tomorrow.


	10. Counting Stars

Peter was an evil little mastermind. I say that as if I didn't already realize it, but the truth is, I was just now coming to terms with this arrangement. Jacky was nowhere to be found, and I was slowly dying via boredom. It was too quiet without my captive best friend to bounce my thoughts off of. We'd spent so much time moping around each other that I forgot how cluttered my mind really was. That was a plus side, actually. With all of this extra time to myself, I could think and rethink my existence as much as I wanted to.

That was his plan, though. I could already feel the loneliness getting to me. Sometimes I failed to remember that this boy was probably centuries old. He was bound to be an expert at dealing with 'lost' kids at this point. Pan planned to starve me out, and I'll wholeheartedly admit that he was going to succeed. Jacky was much stronger than I was. She could play this game of wills for weeks on end, provided we aren't literally starved.

I'd never felt quite as helpless and scared as I did in that week I spent stuck in their campsite. Every day was an agonizing routine for me. I'd take regular naps, easing in and out of consciousness throughout the day. They gave me three meals, as well as the spare snack if somebody was feeling particularly nice, and let me get up to go take a piss out in the woods or rinse off when I needed to. It was actually significantly better than how I pictured being held hostage – in fact, it was an easy enough life, minus the lack of freedom. I definitely wasn't emaciated, nor was I horribly lacking in hygiene, but that wasn't what they were going for, was it?

No. They essentially wanted me to sit around and 'think about what I'd done'. I tried my best to be defiant about it, but it just wasn't in my nature. If Pan didn't like my quickly declining state of mind, he'd sit down for a little chat. By 'little chat', I of course mean that he channeled his inner Socrates and tried to convert me to 'lost boy' status.

"I'm surprised at you, Melinda," Peter remarked, my name sliding off his tongue in a fashion that made me want to get it legally changed to something unpronounceable and Welsh, "You're doing a lot better than I thought you would."

I rolled my eyes, making a point to avoid looking at him. Instead, I kept my gaze trained skyward. Is that a vulture I see? "Glad to know I'm making progress," I grumbled, hardly having the energy to speak with him for the umpteenth time this week.

Pan laughed at me, placing himself on a tree stump in front of me. "I expected to find you begging for even a little bit of freedom by now, actually."

He was baiting me, wasn't he? That's too fucking bad for him, then. I didn't have the sentience available to do as much as twitch at his words. "Nah. I'm comfortable – thanks for the consideration."

It had been an entire week. As well as he hid it, I could tell he was quickly becoming impatient with me. If I didn't crack soon, it was likely that he'd crack _my_ _skull_ open with some pointy stones. I saw his position shift slightly as he moved in his seat, as if preparing for something. "It's even more surprising to note that Jacky gave up nearly two days ago."

The absent expression I'd donned quickly slipped off my face, and I craned my neck to look at the sadistic little brat in front of me. "What did you say?" I croaked out, trying to fight the distress from seeping into my voice.

He'd gotten his reaction, though, and that made him ecstatic. "Tough ol' Jacqueline caved in, Melinda. She stopped fighting me." The grin stayed plastered to his lips, a tell-tale sign that I actively looked for and avoided in everyone I met.

I pressed my lips into a firm line, feeling my eyes and throat begin to burn. "She'd never do that. She's stronger than I am by far,_ Pan_. Not even you could take that from her so quickly."

"Oh, but I did! Hurts to find out that the girl you look up to is nothing more than a fraud, doesn't it? She's not coming for you, nobody back home is coming for you – who are you waiting for?"

I ground my teeth together, tears involuntarily slipping from my eyes. "If nobody else can do it, then I'll make it out of here myself.

Pan rose from his seat, reaching me in two long strides. He grabbed me by the shirt collar, pulling me closer towards him. "You've heard the stories, haven't you? Nobody gets off this island unless I let them leave."

I shrunk away from the mousy, brown-haired little demon, pressing myself harder against the tree, if only to create a few mere millimeters of distance between us. "I'm not a kid – there's no reason to keep me here. Why not just kill me, then?"

He stopped for a moment, meeting my gaze steadily. Then he dropped me, laughing lightly to himself. Peter plopped down on the ground again, toying absent-mindedly at the ropes that kept me secure. "You're not a kid? Pray tell – what are you, then?"

"Technically I turned 18 about 3 weeks ago. Where I live, I'm an adult and fully responsible for myself," I murmured off-handedly, trying to restore my apathetic façade.

A sharp tug at my ropes caused momentary breathing troubles, and I gasped lightly. "18, huh? Hardly means anything here. There are 18-year-olds on this island. They've been 18 for a lot longer than you have, too." Peter was very casual with this conversation, almost looking bored with me. "So you came here at the age of 17? What makes you feel any older than you were 3 weeks ago? What makes you feel any less out of control? Fact is – you're still hopeless. You're still as weak and irresponsible as before. You can't take care of yourself, let alone anyone else."

Pan left shortly after that. He didn't need to say anything else. I had enough holes poked in me to strain a pot of spaghetti.

"_Hey, I wanna crawl out of my skin. Apologize for all my sins - all the things I should've said to you. Hey, I can't make it go away. Over and over in my brain again – all the things I should've said to you." – Sugarcult: Counting Stars_

**AN: **I think I hurt myself writing this chapter. Stupid Pan and his mindgames… I'll say it again – poor Mel. Also, I did go back and fix the error in the last chapter. If you see any others, let me know! Thanks to LoonyLucy, theshadowwithinyoursoul, and my-beloved-monster for reviewing. By the way, I love Daughter! That song is perfect – how did I not see it? Leave a comment, shoot me message, or maybe do nothing if you've enjoyed the story so far! Au revoir~


	11. No Bravery

Regardless of my decision on whether or not to surrender to Pan, the next day, they let me out. By 'let me out', I mean I was forced to congregate with their band of circus freaks and pretend I was part of the routine. Early in the morning, when the lost boy's noise pollution finally drew me out of my sleep, a scrawny, angry looking boy came over and cut me loose. I'm not gonna lie, I fucking booked it on out of there the second I had the chance, but it took them less than 10 minutes to bring me back to camp. To my surprise, Peter didn't tie me back to the tree. He grinned, chattered off something about me not knowing my place yet, and stalked off into the woods to do whatever evil little demons do.

I was terrified. After a good week of feeling like a caged animal, I was released into the wild, and I didn't know what to do with myself. Running was out of the question – I'd already tried. In all honesty, suicide was on my list of options at this point. It would probably be better for my health in the long run. For now, though, it was also out of the question. I had a funny feeling that if Pan really wanted me stuck here, not even death could save me. Nonetheless, I kept fumbling around my head for a plan.

I'd come to realize that the reigning king of the lost boys was rarely around. He came and went when he pleased, but seemed to be away a majority of the time. Just like a spider, though, I felt more comfortable if I knew where he was. Nobody gave me the time to sink into myself anymore, now. I was put to work. Whatever the boys were doing, I traipsed around with them and did menial tasks. I carried buckets of water, carved out new bowls for them, gathered firewood – whatever Pan's underlings didn't feel like doing.

Suddenly, being tied to a tree didn't sound too bad. I was too close to these little dweebs. Some even knew me by name at this point – others had already picked out a fresh nickname.

"Hey, ginger, I need your help!"

The frown on my face deepened, and I rose from my resting position, turning towards the direction of the voice. A lanky boy beckoned me over, a toothy grin spread across his dirty features. Withholding a few curses from leaving my lips, I trudged across the camp to his side.

He handed me a rather poorly-weaved basket, holding a second one to his side for himself. "We're going gathering – you're coming with," The boy announced – I believe his name was Franky – and he immediately turned tail and marched into the woods.

I hesitated at the edge of camp. Was it really safe for me to go beyond this boundary? What if I end up with an arrow wedged between my shoulder blades? After another quick moment of deliberating, I decided that ignoring one of Pan's precious lost boy's orders wouldn't go unpunished. At this point, I just wanted to be left alone as much as possible. With a heavy sigh, I pressed forward, already being left in the dust by Franky.

We spent what felt like hours picking stupid fucking berries, him checking each one I picked to make sure I hadn't picked the wrong ones. After that, we had to go gather plants and other various fruits to bring back to camp, which only increased the time length I spent away from my solitude. This boy talked like no tomorrow, and it was starting to grate on my ears. A groan snuck out from between my clenched teeth, and the incessant boy looked a little hurt that I was tired of being around him.

In typical arrogant-boy fashion, he upturned his nose and began to criticize me. "What are you so upset about? You're the one who came here in the first place – why do you want to leave so badly?"

My eyebrows knit together, and I looked up from my fruit-picking, which wasn't going too well anyways. "Why would you _want_ to stay here? Pan is a tyrant, you can never get any older, and you're stuck here until eternity ends." I just didn't understand these brats. What did they have here that was so golden and precious that they were willing to sell their souls to the devil to get their grubby hands on it?

"Why would we want to go back? There's nothing there for us. We're here, because this is the only place we belong," Franky defended, a cross look on his face that didn't fit his youth, "What has growing older done for you, huh? Is it everything you ever dreamed it would be?"

The boy's mocking tone pissed me off, but I restrained myself, focusing solely on my gathering. What sent me over the edge, though, was that he was right. I was supposed to be an adult, but I didn't feel any stronger than I did when I was 13. It dawned on me that I wasn't really experiencing maturity; so much as I was experiencing life. Life was unpredictable, and left even the wisest defenseless. Too bad I hadn't realized this before coming to Neverland. That would've left an arsenal of mind games off Peter's weapon list.

By the time the sun started going down, we quit in our endeavors, lugging heavy things of food back to the camp. The fire pit was already crowding with boys, as if waiting for fearless leader to show up and commence their usual antics and festivities. They swatted at each other with sticks, raced up trees, and chased each other around the woods. Of course, dear Felix sat off to the side, looking as pensive and serious as I'd ever seen him. I suppose I wasn't much better, hiding towards the outskirts of the clearing in an effort to look small and avoid being spotted. I'd done pretty well avoiding getting sucked into their 'fun', but today just didn't feel as safe as usual.

Peter eventually waltzed into camp, a satisfied look on his face. This place seemed to run nearly perfectly, save for the obvious dictator nobody seemed to notice. I suspected Pan would be a successful mafia member if he wasn't too busy being 17 all the time. How old was he anyways? 500? 600? Am I getting hotter, or colder?

Dinner was passed around, and I poked and nibbled at various things, slowly eating through it. If I looked occupied, nobody tried to bother me as much. Tonight the fates weren't with me. I'd long since finished eating, and was watching the wild happenings of the lost boys as our resident evil bastard blew silently into a pan flute. The first night, I was a little concerned about my lack of hearing the pipes, but now it was just annoying. What the fuck was everyone else so excited about?

A pomegranate flew towards me, and I barely managed to catch it before it hit me in the face. Pan stood above me, looking mildly amused at my serious case of butterfingers. I frowned at him, tossing the purple-ish fruit back and forth in my hands.

"Don't look so excited to see me, now, Melinda," he cooed, leaning against the tree I sat under. "I imagine you're still bitter about this "bullshit", as you so eloquently put it?" Peter tore up some oak leaves, ceremoniously dropping them on my head once he finished.

I ignored it, choosing to work on prying open the pomegranate. "Don't look so proud, asshole," I grumbled, digging my overgrown fingernails into the fruit and ripping it apart, "I was bitter before I came to this place." Staring down at the messy red seeds, I contemplated eating it. Wasn't Persephone the one who ate 6 pomegranate seeds in the underworld and now she's trapped there for 6 months a year? Not to mention I was technically just handed this food by the devil... I digress…

The brown-haired little shit scoffed lightly, blowing small puffs of air into his flute. "Don't worry. You'll get over it sooner than later. Everyone does." There was a thick moment of silence between us as we watched the raving crowd of boys. Is this what he did every night? Just watch them have fun in the world he plunged them into?

Deciding it was high time to crack the silence, I carefully picked out some words. "You never explained…" I grumbled, "What do you need girls here for? I'd be much less trouble dead, or back home, you know."

Pan rubbed my currently ratty and gross, golden-orange hair with his free hand, a gesture more demeaning than it was affectionate. "I don't know that I owe you an explanation. You never said a word about why you came here, and I respected your privacy."

"Your definition of respect and my definition of respect are two widely different things, you know."

He ignored me. "I'm playing a great game here in Neverland, and sometimes, leverage is needed. That's where you come in."

"… What if I refuse?" I questioned seriously, picking at my extra snack.

Peter laughed at me. For whatever reason, it was absolutely hilarious to him that I even dared to defy his holy reign. "Trust me, when the time comes, you'll be too far gone." Pushing himself off the tree, he started making his way around the campfire. He turned to me one last time, shaking his pan flute in my direction. "Just listen for the music, Melinda. You're getting closer every day, now."

"_There are children standing here, arms outstretched into the sky. Tears drying on their face - he has been here. __Brothers lie in shallow graves, fathers lost without a trace. A nation blind to their disgrace, since he's been here." – James Blunt: No Bravery_

**AN: **Franky – yay or nay? Not really ever going to be reappearing, I just want to know what you think of him. I kinda like this chapter. Not really important, but I just like it… It is the longest one by far though – so there's something. Sorry I didn't post this weekend. I started reading Percy Jackson and it has become a poison in my life. I'm on the third book. Anyone familiar with the series? Anyways… Who else watched 'Good Form'? It was fantastic, if not a little upsetting. Fucking David, man. Tell yo' family that you is screwed to high heaven. Snow is gonna beat yo' white ass when she finds out. I'm kidding, but seriously. Not to mention Robbie Kay killed it, as per usual. His creepy standing in the shadow thing is weirding me out, dude. Did you hear Marilyn Manson is going to voice his shadow in an upcoming episode? That's dope as hell. Hook's brother is a dumbass. End of story. This has gone on too long. Thanks to theshadowwithinyoursoul, my-beloved-monster, ANNEROOS, SweetMoonPrincess, and Msballetdiva for reviewing! Means a lot to me! See ya'!


	12. New Low

I'm sure everyone has woken up in the middle of the night at some inappropriate time before, but I really doubt anyone has woken up with a 12-year-old boy straddling them. It was probably around 5 AM at this point, and considering it was raining in Neverland, it was a unanimous decision that we needed to pitch tents. As opposed to the very solitary tree I was planning on sleeping under, I was forced to sleep under a cramped little tarp with a couple of tweens. It was uncomfortable to say the least, but everyone else thought it was the most hilarious thing in the world. This boy, of course, found it equally hilarious to piss me off.

"What the fuck?" I shrieked, shoving the boy off of me as hastily as possible and scrambling backwards. He and the other kids in the tent howled with laughter, doubled over their flimsy bedspreads in hysterics. The scowl on my face deepened, and I made my best attempt at leveling them with an even stare. This only made them laugh harder.

The same little punk that had so obviously violated my space managed to get a couple of words out through his obnoxious cackling, spit flying from his mouth as he did so, "Nice face, moron, that's a good look for you!"

A bent spoon was shoved into my hands, and I gazed in horror at the streaks of mud covering my face, intricately drawn to make me look like I'd just attended some wild Cherokee bonfire. Not two seconds after this discovery, the couple lost boys still in the tent had fled, simultaneously crying in laughter.

The walk to the nearest stream was shameful and depressing.

"I see you're having fun now, then?" A voice called to me whilst I was wiping my face off, causing me to let an ingrained sigh leave my lips.

Turning tiredly towards the direction of the speaker, I was unsurprised to find that it was Peter who was standing a little ways behind me. It was too goddamn early for this shit. "Yeah, very funny. Your boys are terribly behaved, Pan," I grumbled, less than excited that he intruded on my face-washing, "I thought you would've trained them better."

The tyrannous teenager chuckled lightly to himself, meandering his way towards me. "If you're to be a lost girl, you need to understand that everyone here is fair game. You don't get immunity for being a female," Peter remarked casually, shuffling the loose-packed dirt around with his shoes as he spoke.

"Well, it's a good thing I don't plan on being a lost girl, then," I quipped airily, continuing my work on wiping caked mud off of my skin.

He clicked his tongue audibly, a tell-tale sign that I was beginning to tick him off. Good – he deserves it. "I think it's hilarious that you had the nerve to trespass on _my_ island, and continue to have trouble following my rules. Do I walk into your house and disrespect you? No." Pan stood barely an arm's length away from me, and I could practically feel the authority pouring off of him. It felt like I was being lectured by one of my past teachers for doing something wrong, resulting in them calling my parents and me crying my eyes out.

Making a point to avoid his venomous glare, I tossed the dirtied rag into the stream, trying to occupy myself. "If we're speaking technically here, then you really have done that to me," I mumbled apprehensively, cracking my knuckles in anxiety.

"How so, Melinda? Please elaborate for me."

Shaking my head minutely, I scrunched up my face as if thinking extra hard about something. "No reason, really. Just a thought."

He continued to stare at me, seemingly trying to undo some sort of complicated puzzle. "You should probably know that I hate liars," the brunette sighed in disappointment, crossing the short boundary between us in one short step, and raising his hand up treacherously. Instinctively, I flinched away, preparing to be socked in the face for even crossing paths with this little demon. His hand never connected, though, only the rough heel of his palm did as he rubbed his thumb along the corner of my right eye. I shrunk slightly, redirecting my gaze towards him in mild surprise. With a gracious smile on his face, he nodded in a mockingly warm fashion. "You missed a spot, darling."

I was absolutely disgusted. He fucking touched me.

Shrugging his hand away, I took a few steps back to distance myself from Mr. Darkness Incarnated. "Don't touch me like that. Don't touch me at all. I'm already stuck here – I don't need you up in my business on top of that," I ground out, my annoyance at an all-time peak.

Pan breathed in like it was the most refreshing thing in the world to see me squirm. Not like I didn't do it every fucking time he was around. "Good to know you've accepted that you're not leaving Neverland, then. Welcome aboard."

I was stunned, to say the least. Here I was, expecting him to spew some bullcrap about how, 'he could touch me however he wanted to' and I would thusly call him a disgusting asshole and try to take off his head, but no. All I could do was stare at him, dumbfounded, like I'd just been handed a military service uniform for no reason. I was sputtering stupidly at this point. Had I just walked right into that one? "We both know that's not what I meant! I fully intend on getting out of here one way or another, and I _will_ be taking my friends with me!"

Peter nodded like it was the most profound, agreeable thing he'd ever heard. "So there's more than one friend on this island? It's not just Jacky? Good to know, also. You're here on a rescue mission." He tapped his hand lightly underneath my chin, an unspoken reminder to close my mouth and stop gaping like a fish. "You say a lot of dumb things when you're tired, Melinda. If you don't want me coming for crack-of-dawn visits, I'd work on that."

I made a move to retort back at him, but he just cut me off, drawing out his flute and wiping the rims off with his fingers. "Go back to bed, lost girl. I look forward to seeing you in the morning."

I'd like to say that I remember storming off back to my tent, frustratingly throwing myself onto my makeshift sleeping bag, and going to sleep, but I don't. After that, I can't seem to recall a thing. Horrifyingly, I will admit, that I fell asleep to the distant, haunting sound of music that night.

"_How did I get so far from where I was? When did I decide to lose my way, and what have I become? I've got a new low, all 52 cards in a row. I see now that I won't let go, no I won't let go." – Middle Class Rut: New Low_

**AN: **Hon, hon, hon. That's very saucy, Pan. Go eat a dick. Sorry for being so painfully slow with this update. I had a lot of trouble coming up with a good intro to the chapter… Not sure why… Don't worry, guys. I have plenty of ideas to expend on this story. This ship won't be sunken that easily, even if the captain takes frequent naps and stays up till 2 AM. How did you guys like Ariel? I thought… She and the whole episode was kinda boring. I mean, it was good. It just was disappointing. I'm ecstatic for today's, though! Hell yeah! Thanks to SweetMoonPrincess, claudialouise98, Gee Brittany, Msballetdiva, songbook12, innocent as far as you know, xenocanaan, and Rascal for reviewing! Glad to see everyone is enjoying the story! See you guys soon!


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